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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

=========

Well-Suited
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Story, Angst, Mulder/Scully UST/Romance, a little Humor

Rated PG

Spoilers through "Drive"

Summary: Post ep. How does Scully pay that bill, anyway?

Author's notes: I have no comment at this time. <g>

Thanks: To Stacey, for beta reading.

==========

Well-Suited
by shannono


The Express Mail envelope arrived at her apartment two days
after the meeting with Kersh. The return address was that
of a Massachusetts law firm she'd never heard of, and her
name -- "Miss Dana K. Scully" -- and address were neatly
typed on the label. Several possibilities ran through her
mind -- she was being summoned for a parole hearing, or
sued for some imagined slight.

What was inside was the last thing she would have expected.

A cashier's check, drawn on a Boston bank, for $6,500. A
brief note, probably typed by a secretary but signed by one
of the three men whose names comprised the law firm's title,
explaining that the donor had requested anonymity, and that
she not contact them for further information.

She didn't need to.

She knew who it was from.

She considered returning the envelope, refusing the payment.
But the fact was that she couldn't afford the bill from their
Nevada "adventure," even if it was taken directly from her
paycheck every two weeks. Her savings account was sadly
depleted from her various health problems over the past two
years, and she'd barely kept from dipping into her retirement
account to pay the bills.

No, she'd keep the money.

But she'd have to find some way to make it up to him.

==========

She deposited the check first thing the next morning, the last
of the three-day suspension without pay she'd been slapped
with first thing at the meeting with AD Kersh. Mulder himself
had gotten five days, and she wasn't sure which was worse,
since that left it to her to finish the remaining paperwork on
their unauthorized investigation.

She went directly from the bank to Kersh's office, her most
severe business suit and expression her armor, and sat in
the outer office, waiting nearly a half-hour before he would
deign to see her.

Once allowed inside, she wasted no time, extracting her
checkbook and a pen from her pocket.

"What is the exact amount of the bill for expenses on our
last investigation, Assistant Director Kersh?" she asked,
lowering her gaze to the paper as she began to fill in the
check.

Kersh did not answer, and she looked up at him coolly,
lifting one eyebrow in question. "Sir?" she asked. "The
amount? I'd like to get it out of way, if I may."

Kersh regarded her silently for a moment, then reached
for a folder at one side of his desk. "The bill is not yet
prepared, Agent Scully," he said evenly. "And I'm afraid
I can't accept your payment at this time."

Scully stopped writing and pinned him with a look. "I do
not wish to have this debt hanging over my head. Sir," she
added, her business-like tone masking the ice in her voice.
"I would like to pay it today. I would be glad to deliver the
check to another office, if that would be more convenient."

Kersh scowled at her. "I was about to have my secretary
deliver the final calculations to accounting, Agent Scully,"
he said, reaching for an interoffice mail envelope and
slipping the folder inside. He picked up a pen and scribbled
something on the outside, then said, without looking back up,
"You're welcome to accompany her and proffer your payment at
that time."

Scully flipped the checkbook shut and stood abruptly. "Thank
you, sir," she said. "I'll wait for her in the outer office."

She turned toward the door, then stopped as Kersh said,
rather loudly, "Agent Scully."

She turned to face him again. "Yes, sir?" she asked,
carefully keeping her expression blank.

Kersh matched her expression perfectly. "Do you know
what the term 'co-dependent' means, Agent Scully?" he
asked.

Scully fought the urge to turn on her heel and stalk out
of the office. "Yes, sir," she managed through slightly
clenched teeth. "I am a medical doctor, sir, and have
conducted research into a wide variety of illnesses, both
physical and mental. I am well aware of the definition, as
well as the causes and the symptoms."

Kersh continued to regard her neutrally. "I believe
perhaps you need a refresher course, Agent Scully," he
said. He held her gaze for only another few moments
before returning his attention to his desk.

Scully stared at him for a long moment, considering and
discarding several possible responses before finally
simply turning and leaving the office, as calmly as
possible.

Outside, she took several deep breaths before stepping
over to the vinyl sofa and carefully sitting down. She
waited there, as the secretary's phone buzzed -- Carol
Alderman, the nameplate read -- and then as Carol
went into the inner office.

She emerged a few moments later, with the interoffice
envelope in her hand and a somewhat puzzled look
on her face. Stepping to the sofa, she asked, "Agent
Scully? Assistant Director Kersh said you would be 
accompanying me to Accounting?"

"Yes," was Scully's succinct reply. She stood, then nodded
for Carol to go ahead, following a few steps behind.

Ten minutes and three floors later, she was again seated,
this time in a straightback, vinyl covered chair, waiting
for the expense report to be entered into the computer
system so her payment could be accepted. She spent
the time looking at the certificates and photos on the
wall, watching people work, and staring into space.

Finally, the woman at the desk in front of her lifted her
head and said, "Agent Scully, your report is ready. You
can pay at the counter." She nodded off to the left.

"Thank you, Amy," Scully replied, rising and walking to
the counter. She placed the checkbook in front of her,
then waited for the woman there to retrieve the computer
printout and come to stand before her.

"The total is six thousand, one hundred and thirty-seven
dollars and eighty-two cents, Agent Scully," the woman
said.

Scully nodded and began to write the amount as the
woman pulled up the account. They finished at the same
time, and Scully handed over the check and waited for
her receipt.

Finished, she headed back down to her car, avoiding the
eyes of everyone she passed and thankful that she didn't
run into anyone who might have stopped her for a chat.

She had a mission on her mind.

==========

An hour later, she was standing in a men's store downtown,
scanning racks of suits with a critical eye. She had been
looking for only a few minutes before a salesman approached.

"May I help you find something, ma'am?" the man asked.

"Yes ..." -- she checked his nametag -- "Paul," Scully said.
"I'd like to buy a suit for ... a friend. He was recently in
an accident which ruined the suit he was wearing, and since
the situation was partially my fault, I'd like to repay him."

"Certainly," Paul replied, smiling. "Did you have a certain
style in mind? Three-piece? Double-breasted?"

Scully smiled inwardly at the thought of Mulder in either a
three-piece *or* double-breasted suit. "No, neither," she
said. "Single breasted, two piece. Preferably grey, and a
medium-weight material. We ... he travels often, on business,
so he would need something he can wear in a wide variety of
climates."

Paul nodded and lifted one hand toward the back of her
shoulder as the other extended toward a rack to their left.
"We have a nice selection of off-the-rack suits to choose
from today, since your friend is not here himself to have
one fitted," he said. "Did you have a specific price range?"

Scully shrugged. "Something in the four hundred to six
hundred range, I suppose," she said, then smiled slightly.
"It wasn't one of his best suits, thank goodness."

Paul laughed as he pulled a suit from the rack. "This is a
nice one," he said, pulling back the lapels to show the
stitching. "We have this in a wide range of sizes, and
the material is solid but not too heavy. What size does
your friend wear?"

"He's a 40 long, and a 31 waist," she answered automatically.
Paul rehung the suit he held, reached for another jacket,
then rummaged for the right size pants.

As he turned back with the correct sizes, Scully thought of
something else. "Are the legs hemmed?"

Paul shook his head, lifting one leg. "We have two lengths --
these are longs -- but neither comes pre-hemmed. We can hem
them, or you can give him the suit and send him in for a
fitting. There's no additional charge, and it'll ensure the
best fit."

Scully paused, then nodded. "I like it," she said. "How much?"

"Actually, this particular suit is on special this week at
twenty percent off," Paul said, smiling again. "With the 
discount, it's four seventy-five."

Scully nodded again. "I'll take it," she said.

Paul's smile widened, and he directed her toward the cash
register. "It's a good decision, ma'am," he said as they
walked.

Scully smiled secretly. "Yes, it is," she replied.

==========

Two hours later, she was at the door to Mulder's apartment.
She had considered simply sending him the suit box anonymously,
as he had done with the money, but she wanted, partly, to see
him try to squirm out of it, and, partly, to see his reaction
to her gift.

She glanced at her watch -- just noon, and she'd already jumped
through enough hoops to wear out a performing dog. Sighing,
she raised her hand to knock -- and the door opened.

Mulder stood, staring at her. He wore jeans and T-shirt, and he'd 
apparently showered recently, since his hair was still damp --
and as short as it was now, it dried very quickly. He hadn't
shaved, though, and his chin was dark with at least a day's 
growth.

"Scully?" he asked in a confused tone. "What are you doing
here?"

Scully smiled, just slightly. "I didn't have anything better to
do," she quipped, barely suppressing a laugh at Mulder's surprise.

He still didn't move, so she asked, "Are you going to let me in?"

Mulder started visibly. "Oh. Yeah. Sure," he said, stepping
back to allow her inside. As she moved, his eyes dropped to
track the box she held. "Scully?" he asked again. "What's in
the box?"

Scully didn't answer immediately, placing the box on the hall
table and slipping off her trench coat before turning to face him.

He automatically reached for her coat and hung it on the
coat rack, then froze as she spoke behind him.

"It's for you," she said simply.

Mulder turned slowly, almost warily, back to face her. "Me?"
he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Scully regarded him calmly but kept her face soft. "For you,"
she repeated, waving one hand toward the box. "Why don't you
open it and see what it is?"

At this, Mulder relaxed, just slightly, and cracked, "A little
late for my birthday, Scully, and too early for Christmas."

She acknowledged the jibe with a tiny twitch of one corner of
her mouth but otherwise didn't move, simply waiting. Mulder 
stepped back to the table, then lifted one side of the box, 
slipping his finger through to pull the lid back. Faced with
a layer of tissue paper, he carefully parted the sheets to 
reveal the suit, neatly folded inside.

His eyes darted up to meet hers, his brow furrowed in
puzzlement. "Scully?" he asked. "What's this?"

She nodded toward the suit. "A replacement for the one that 
got ruined," she said. "And ... and a thank you for the check."

At this, Mulder's face went instantly blank. "What check?" he
asked mildly, his eyes fixed on the suit box.

Scully sighed, suddenly unwilling to draw this out any longer.
"You know what check, Mulder," she answered. "Did you think I
wouldn't know it was from you? I mean, even if it *hadn't* 
been drawn on a Boston bank, and sent through a Boston law 
firm, who *else* would it be from?"

She stepped closer and laid one hand on his arm, leaning
down to try to catch his eye. "Besides," she continued, her
voice lower, "who else knew how much the bill was going to
be? Somehow I don't think Kersh would be sending the money,
now, would he?"

Mulder snorted at that. "No, I don't think he would be," he
answered, raising his eyes to hers briefly before returning
his gaze to the suit. "But the suit?" he asked.

Scully smiled. "That's your refund," she said. "The bill was
only a little over six thousand, Mulder. And I knew you
wouldn't take the money back, so instead, I bought you this."

Mulder lifted his head back to look at her, his expression
tender. "You're right," he said softly, sliding his hand up to
grip hers where it still lay on his arm. "I wouldn't have taken
the money. You deserve it, Scully. You deserve it all, and so
much more, for putting up with me. For standing up for me. Do 
you ..." His voice shook, and he took a deep breath to steady 
it before going on. "Do you know how much that means to me?"

Scully had to take a breath herself before responding. "I
think I do, Mulder," she said gently, moving to take his other
hand in hers. "I think I do."

Mulder smiled, then leaned forward to brush his lips across
the top of her forehead. He pulled back to look at her again,
then glanced over at the suit. "So, you picked this out?" he
asked.

She nodded. "With a little help from one of the salesmen,"
she said. "You'll need to go in and have the pants hemmed,
but I think the sizes are right." She regarded his form with
a critical eye. "Although you look like you're losing weight
again, Mulder. I hope the pants don't fall off you."

She saw the smirk rising on his face and cut him off. "Don't
even go there, Mulder," she said, dropping his hands and
moving to fold the tissue back over the suit, closing the box
over it.

Behind her, Mulder said, "So, what, now I'm well-suited?"
he said lightly.

She turned back to face him, her face soft but serious. "I
think we both are, Mulder," she said.

They held each other's gaze, until Scully broke away. "So,"
she said, stepped toward the door and reaching for her coat.
"You want to grab some lunch?"

She thought she heard Mulder mutter "Among other things"
under his breath but chose to ignore it.

For now.

"Gino's Deli okay, Mulder?" she asked, turning back to face
him as she slipped into her coat.

She almost balked at the look in Mulder's eyes, but he
quickly shifted them away from hers and turned toward the
living room. "Let me grab my shoes and coat," he said, his
voice neutral but a little rough.

As she waited for him, her gaze drifted back over to the
suit box, and she smiled gently.

Well-suited, indeed.